The asylum was approached by a broad gravel walk, leading through a garden edged on either side by a stone balustrade, and shaded by tufted trees. They were a young man and an old one, and both appeared deeply affected. All was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin. “I think that it is only an idea. ‘His wife? Pah!’ ‘You’re saying she is not his wife?’ ‘I am saying nothing. ” “Did I?” she said. She helped herself to the remainder of the slightly congealed bacon, and reverted to the problem of getting her luggage out of the house. And now— I suppose I should be considered too old.
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